


Red Hair || A Good Omens Fic

by probably_publius



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 2019, 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ancient Greece, Aziraphale in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Canon - Book, Canon - show, Canon Compliant, Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley didn't mean to start the Spanish Inquisition, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Cute, Drunken Confessions, England (Country), Fahrenheit 451, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Flirting, Fluff, Gay, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Headcanon, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired by City of Angels, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nice Crowley (Good Omens), Not really a Soulmate AU but it follows the trope that you can see colour after falling in love, Pining, Post-Canon, Rain, Rainbows, Seven Deadly Sins, Slow Burn, Spanish Inquisition, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bc subtly, that Angels can't see colour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probably_publius/pseuds/probably_publius
Summary: Angels cannot see colour. But angels also usually can't eat, or run bookshops, or get angry at people, all of which Aziraphale can do. And if Aziraphale can do that, shouldn't he be able to see colour?After six thousand years of knowing that Crowley has been completely and utterly head over heels for him, Aziraphale finally realizes that he might return those feelings. And when he acknowledges these feelings, he finds that he can suddenly see colour.Note: I'm not an expert on any belief systems including the ones which Good Omens is based on, I do not mean to offend anybody if I write anything considered incorrect.I would like to thank my cat who slept on my pillow almost the entire time I wrote this. He is my greatest inspiration.This fic has reached 69 kudos!!! (A very important milestone.) Thank you so much to everyone who has read, left kudos, or commented! <3
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 116





	Red Hair || A Good Omens Fic

**Author's Note:**

> TW: some swearing, drinking, references to killings, implied anorexia, self hatred, six thousand years of these two being oblivious idiots

Crowley had fallen in many different ways. Firstly and most importantly, he had fallen from Heaven, becoming a demon. That was not a good day and Crowley spent a large portion of his six thousand years on Earth trying to forget it. But unfortunately for him and his celestial mind, it was not the sort of thing one could forget.

Secondly, Crowley had fallen over many times trying to function his human legs. Originally being a serpent, he sometimes had trouble working his legs and had tripped on many occasions. Fortunately, Crolwey was able to forget most of the times he’d made a fool of himself and wipe the memories of any mortal who saw.

And lastly, Crowley had fallen for Aziraphale. The demon had been in love with the angel for most of their six thousand years together. Throughout history, he had many attempts to woo Aziraphale, many endeavors that went unnoticed by the oblivious angel. Crowley, despite being a demon, a creature that is supposed to be incapable of love or romance or any of those icky feelings, had deep feelings for Aziraphale. But Aziraphale didn’t return those feelings.

At least, he didn’t acknowledge that he had any feelings until after the Apocalypse That Wasn’t. Aziraphale had finally been struck with Cupid’s metaphorical arrow one evening when he and Crowley were dining at the Ritz.

“I really wish you would eat something, dear,” Aziraphale had said after swallowing down another bite of some delicious crepes. He had already finished half of his meal, and here Crowley was, just sitting there with nothing but some wine to fill his body. Crowley may have been a demon but his body was human and needed nutrients.

“‘M fine,” Crowley shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, as he  _ always _ did on these outings to fancy restaurants.

“Would you at least have a salad?,” Aziraphale offered.

Crowley grunted. “Nah. I only eat plants that have misbehaved. I don’t know if the lettuce they’re putting in my salad was good or not.”

Aziraphale turned back to his food and disregarded whatever nonsense Crowley was talking about now.

“Besides,” Crowley continued. “I’m always okay with just sitting here and watching you.”

Aziraphale knew that Crowley would always stare at him whenever they had dinner together. The demon had been doing it for several thousand years. But today, after he and Crowley had together stopped Armageddon and successfully fooled the angels and demons, Crowley’s remark struck him differently. Aziraphale felt  _ tempted _ to glance over the table at Crowley (he rarely did since he felt food demanded his full attention).

Aziraphale looked up and his eyes landed on Crowley who sat draped across a fancy chair at a fancy restaurant while wearing a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, a black jacket, silly sunglasses, and a sorry excuse for a tie. (I mean really, it looks like it’s made from a shoelace.) But seeing Crowley’s bright, serpentine eyes peeking out through his shades at him, made Aziraphale feel something in his stomach. It couldn’t be hunger since Aziraphale was eating right then, but it felt sort of like that.

Crowley had noticed that Aziraphale was staring back at him and took the opportunity to be suave and tempting. He cracked a charismatic smile and said “Hey.”

Aziraphale then choked on his food.

“Woah, Angel. Are you okay? Don’t go discorporating on me, not right after everything that we just went through.” Crowley sat up and placed a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Um, yes. I’m quite alright,” Aziraphale said once he found his breath again. Seeing Crowley look at him with care and concern made warmth rush to his cheeks. He had read about this feeling in many books and had seen many films depicting young humans going through this, but he never expected that he could feel this way for his oldest and closest friend (who was also sort of the enemy but that didn’t matter to the two of them anymore).

“I’m okay,” Aziraphale reiterated, pushing Crowley’s hand away. “I just… um, something caught my eye and… I got distracted.”

“From eating properly?” Crowley asked, returned back to his relaxed position. “Gosh, you sure are a  _ silly angel.” _

“Uh—uh—uh—over there!” Aziraphale sputtered. He pointed at the first thing he saw in the large room. “That’s what caught my eye.”

Crowley’s gaze followed Aziraphale’s finger that had randomly picked a subject. “That lady’s dress?” he scoffed.

“Yes. Isn’t it lovely?”

“No. That’s a bloody hideous dress. Totally clashes with her hair. And, oh Satan, her earrings. One poor fashion choice is enough in one outfit, but  _ two _ ?”

“Hmm.” Pretended to understand what Crowley was talking about as he chugged down some water to slow his racing heart.

“Uhh… her dress and earrings are bright gold while her hair is a platinum blonde. The colours clash,” Crolwey explained to Aziraphale.

“Ah.” Aziraphale fiddled with his perfectly manicured hands. He always made sure his hands looked nice. Same with his clothes, although Crowley would occasionally poke fun at the way Aziraphale dressed. In his defense, there was only so much a colour-blind angel could do for their wardrobe.

“Must be quite useful,” Aziraphale said, changing the subject yet again so Crowley wouldn’t suspect why Aziraphale was suddenly acting very jumpy. “Being able to see colour.”

“Yeah. One of the perks of being a demon.”

“Well, the humans can see colour too—”

“Not this lady, apparently.” Crowley’s eyes were still trained on the diner with poor fashion sense.

Aziraphale frowned. He suddenly felt an urge to pull Crowley’s attention back to him. Oh, this serpent and his temptations. “You know, I’ve read many books that use colour to describe things, but I’ve unfortunately can’t ever understand what the authors mean by ‘red’ or ‘pink’ or whatever the Hell ‘turquoise’ is.”

“Turquoise,” Crowley said, his attention back on Aziraphale (hurrah). “It’s sorta a greenish blue.”

Aziraphale tilted his head sideways. “ _ Very helpful, Crowley _ .”

“I try,” Crowley smirked, sipping his wine. “Are you finished yet, Angel. I was wondering if we could head over to your bookshop? I’d like to hunker down for a bit and maybe listen to you as you organize your collection.”

Aziraphale’s attempts to compose himself fell apart as he found himself feeling flustered again. How Crowley could enjoy just being in his presence had always baffled him, but now understanding how amazing the demon that was infatuated with him was… Aziraphale just couldn’t take it. “Yes, we can pop over there right now,” Aziraphale said quickly. He wasn’t finished with his meal, but Crowley didn’t need to know that. Discreetly, he miracled his leftovers to a homeless shelter somewhere nearby in London. “Only a few blocks to walk.”

“A few?” Crowley grumbled, standing up and stretching his long limbs out. “Angel, I don’t understand why you don’t just let me drive us everywhere. It is  _ so  _ much easier.”

“You’re on probation from driving me anywhere after you drove the Bentley drunk, burned your car, and got somebody killed,” Aziraphale reminded Crowley as he led him out to the London streets.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I was in a desperate situation and there was no way around the flaming M25. Plus, Hastur wasn’t killed, he was  _ discorporated _ . And since when do you care about Hastur? Don't forget the shit you pulled at my trial.”

“The fact that the M25 was on fire was your fault in the first place so I’m still going to hold it against you. And I only scared your ex-associates down there so we could be undisturbed on Earth.”

“ _ Scared _ ? Angel, you were able to invoke fear in the baddest creatures in this universe. That’s much more extraordinary than just making them scared.”

“Yes…” Aziraphale smiled at himself. “It was quite amazing.”

Crowley chuckled. “Sometimes you hardly remind me of the perfect being of goodness you were in the Beginning. An angel that was a carbon copy of the rest of Heaven that wouldn’t do any wrong.”

“Well, we have spent six thousand years with the humans. We were bound to gain some traits and develop beyond what our previous sides had in mind for us.”

“Yes… and it's thanks to that that the world never ended.”

The two stopped at a crosswalk and Aziraphale watched as a number of cars sped by. He was lucky to have gained many human abilities such as taste or literacy, but there was always one human trait that Aziraphale had always envied; the ability to see colour.

He had made do with not being able to see colour for six thousand years, and he never seemed to need colour to do anything. And if it ever came up in conversation, Crowley would try his best to explain it to Aziraphale.

“My hair is red.” Aziraphale could recall Crowley saying one day many millennia ago when the two were standing by the woods watching the humans further develop civilizations.  _ It must’ve been about the time the Achaeans started building temples to varying gods,  _ Aziraphale thought. Since two Abrahamic beings had no affiliation to the polytheistic mythologies, Aziraphale and Crowley had spent most of their time enjoying the Greeks’ developments on fermenting grapes. In fact, most of the events in Greek and Roman legends could be attributed to the two of them doing something stupid or making up wild stories while intoxicated.

“Red is also the colour of our cheeks since we keep drinking this red wine.” Crowley had taken his then long locks into his hands and twirled the curls around his fingers. “Red is… it’s the colour of fire… and apples and blood and war. Red is a fierce and angry colour, sometimes even lustful, it’s the opposite of the luscious green of trees or the deep blue of the oceans or the sky.”

In his hazy memory, Aziraphale had snorted. “You’re being quite poetic about your own hair. Vain much?”

“Oh?” Crowley had smirked. “D’you want me to be all poetic about you too?” Back then, Crowley had been much more forward in his wooing, until the humans started getting angry about two masculine beings having a relationship together. Crowley’s romantic intentions became further closeted after Aziraphale had expressed that he believed Crowley was moving too fast for him that one night in the Bentley. Now, after Armageddon, Crowley was becoming more forward again with his flirtations. Aziraphale didn’t feel the need to complain.

“Yes,” Aziraphale laughed back in the woods of Ancient Greece. “I would like to see you write a poem for me.”

It had been about another few thousand years later when Crowley had presented a poem to Aziraphale. It had happened on a rainy night in the 1470s.

A knock on his door had interrupted Aziraphale from his reading. “Who could that be at this hour?” the angel had asked no one.

He had gone to open the door and found a familiar demon at his door. He wore a black cloak but the hood was down and his chopped hair was soaked in rain. “Ah Crowley,” Aziraphale said, trying to mask his voice with some distaste. To be honest, he was glad to see the old serpent. “It’s been quite a while, where have you been?”

“ _ À _ _ ngel, ellos están matando a la gente. Yo vi a ellos.” _

“Killing people? What are you talking about?” Aziraphale was confused as to why Crowley was speaking Spanish and why his breath smelled of—oh. “Here, come inside. You’re drenched.”

Aziraphale led Crowley to a spot by the hearth and handed him a woven blanket and a cup of tea. He knew Crowley wouldn’t drink it, but Aziraphale thought the sentiment would be nice. “The Spanish Inquisition?” Aziraphale guessed. He had read about it in the papers. “Did you start it?”

“ _ Yo no— _ I don’t know,” Crowley sobbed. “I was in Spain at the time and— I didn’t mean to, Aziraphale, I swear!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Aziraphale coaxed, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. He watched with pity as the demon cried over the deaths of innocent people. A demon who didn’t anybody hurt… how peculiar.

“Why do I have to be a demon? Why must I have  _ evil _ running through my blood? Why can’t I be good… like you?”

“Oh… Crowley, if it makes you feel any better, I think you actually are quite n—”

“I’m not nice!” Crowley hissed, throwing his cup to the floor where it smashed into a million pieces. “I’m a demon! I have to accept that! My only purpose here on Earth is to tempt the humans to destruction.” Crowley had always been quite emotional.

“Crowley, don’t you think you’re being a bit… maybe just a tad bit harsh on yourself?”

Crowley stood up, droplets of water falling from his hair onto the floor. “People are  _ dead _ because of me, Aziraphale.”

“You said that you didn’t mean t—”

“They’re dead all the same.”

“Well, I don’t think you're quite so bad. You may be a demon but you’re also my friend. I know that you’re interested in things other than tempting like… music and nature and—”

“Poetry,” Crowley sniffed. “Angel, I wrote you a poem. Remember how I promised back in Ancient Greece?”

“Yes. But Crowley, I think you should sit down.”

The demon took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I’m sorry it took so long, Angel. It’s not that good.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Right,” Crowley laughed harshly. “What’s the point if I’m unforgivable?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I wrote a poem for you,” Crowley repeated. He held the piece of paper up to his face and very hesitantly read it aloud.

_ In the Beginning there was an evil snake who met a kind angel; _

_ The snake deserved no pity, but the beautiful angel was kind nonetheless; _

_ Did the snake even have a heart? Even he did not know. But his love the angel did wrangle; _

_ But the angel was a beacon of perfection, and the snake was nothing but a mess. _

Crowley finished his poem and Aziraphale hesitated to give a reply. He was shocked by the forwardness of it, and he didn’t appreciate Crowley speaking ill of himself. “Crowley,” he breathed. “I really think you should cut yourself some slack.”

“Why? I don’t deserve it?”

“Please. Just lay down and get some rest. You’re drunk and—”

“I can’t stay, Angel. I have to go back to Spain and finish my job.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, you know these humans. They can finish it for you.”

“Yes. I taught them well, didn’t I?” Crowley handed Aziraphale his poem which was written in sloppy, intoxicated letters.

“Crowley, it’s not your fault,” Aziraphale called after him as he sauntered towards the door. “Please, stay here.”

“ _ Adios _ , Angel.” Crowley left through the door leaving Aziraphale alone.

A loud  _ honk _ from some angry cabbie brought Aziraphale back to reality in 2019. He glanced up at Crowley. The demon had fortunately grown to seem more self-confident over the years, but Aziraphale suspected Crowley still carried some baggage with him. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand; it seemed appropriate. The two continued on their way to the old bookshop.

Once inside the shop, Aziraphale made a beeline to his record-player and put on a vinyl of some classical music. Crowley wandered over to an armchair lit by the grey light from a nearby window.

“Could I get you anything?” Aziraphale asked as his hands started to sort through his shelves. “Maybe not tea. A book to read, perhaps?”

“You know I don’t read.” But Crowley had already taken his glasses off and his bright eyes were scanning the shelves. “I’ll take that one.” He pointed somewhere at eye level. “The red— erm, yeah… that one.”

Aziraphale took a thin novel off the shelf and dusted off the cover. “This one? Are you sure?” he asked Crowley with suspicion.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

Aziraphale hesitantly handed him the book.” _ Fahrenheit 451 _ ,” he said. “You’ve never read it?”

“No.” Crowley opened to the first page. “Is it any good?”

“Well… yes, it  _ is _ a spectacular book. But I don’t think you would like it.” Aziraphale remembered that Crowley would always share his outrage whenever humans burned books. And Crowley didn’t even like books.

“We’ll see,” Crowley said, beginning his read.

Aziraphale spared a few more moments to watch Crowley as he settled into the novel. His hair was growing out again and it rested on his relaxed shoulders in waves. His slitted eyes were locked onto the book in front of him, scanning the words on the page. Aziraphale didn’t know Crowley could see him staring.

It wasn’t until Crowley made a move to turn the page that Aziraphale snapped out of his trance and returned to his work. He hummed to the music and focused on the varying greys of the spines lining the shelves.

“Sometimes it seems like Earth is just a mixture of Heaven and Hell,” Aziraphale had said to Crowley one day at St. James’ Park as they watched all the people pass by their bench. “Heaven is white, Hell is black, and Earth is grey. In a metaphorical sense and in a quite literal one… at least to me.”

“Oh, Angel, don’t you understand? Earth is so much more.” Crowley had said, a romantic tone lacing his words yet again. It was strange, sometimes he believed the humans were just blank slates influenced by the two sides, and other times he believed the opposite. “It flourishes with differences from Heaven and Hell. If only you could see all the lovely colours here on Earth.”

Back in the bookshop, Aziraphale blinked.There was something in his eyes… or rather, there was something on his books.

He took one volume of the shelf and examined it in his hands. Just faintly, there was something… there. Aziraphale couldn’t explain it, it was entirely new to him.

“Hey… Crowley?” Aziraphale turned towards the demon on his armchair. “Do you see th—” His breath stopped and his book fell from his hands when he caught a glance of Crowley. Whatever Aziraphale had seen on his books, it was all over Crowley’s hair. Something bright and vibrant and shocking. “ _ Oh wow _ .”

“Don’t forget to breathe, Angel,” Crowley deadpanned, not looking up from his book.

“You… you have the most lovely hair,” Aziraphale sighed. 

Crowley looked up, a puzzled expression sat on his face. “Yes… I know. Are you feeling alright?”

Crowley’s eyes also possessed whatever this new thing was. But it was different from his hair or the books. Crowley’s eyes were even lighter and much more striking. The brightness of whatever this was really enunciated the darkness of his thin snake-like pupils. If Aziraphale hadn’t been friends with Crowley for nearly six thousand years, he would’ve been scared.

“Your eyes are… oh, they’re  _ adorable _ !” Aziraphale gushed.

“Adorable? Angel, what the Heaven is wrong with you? You’ve been acting strange all day.” Crowley set his book down and made his way across the shop to Aziraphale.

When he was close enough, Aziraphale impulsively reached a hand out to touch his hair. “Would you look at that,” he giggled, watching the vibrant locks twirl around his fingers. “You know what this is?”

Crowley made a face. “Uh, weird?”

“This is red. Crowley, I think I’m seeing colour!”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose with slight surprise. “Really?”

“I believe so. And your eyes, Crowley? They would be yellow, wouldn’t they? They are quite beautiful— and oh, now your face is almost the same colour of your hair. This is quite interesting!”

Some incoherent grumbling came from Crowley’s mouth as he covered his face with his hand. “Hell, you are so cute.”

Aziraphale smiled up at Crowley. “Thank you, dear boy.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Crowley bent down to pick the book Aziraphale had dropped and placed it back in his hand while still covering his face in shame. “So colour, eh? How you liking it?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed and spun around gazing at all the colour in his shop. “It’s just fantastic!” he said dreamily. “But, I don’t think it’s all come in yet. I mean, no colour is showing up in your clothes yet.”

“Nah, I just wear all black.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale was slightly disappointed. “I always expected you’d wear something more colourful. It always seemed to fit you better in my mind.”

Crowley frowned. “Aziraphale, I’m still a demon. Why would I wear anything other than black?”

“Of course, you still look very stylish and attractive.”

Crowley covered his face again. He wasn’t used to having Aziraphale flirt with him so much in one day. “How ‘bout I drive you around London?” Crowley offered. “I’ll show you all the lovely colours of the city? We can walk to St. James’ and get some ice cream.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up at the mention of an ice cream date with Crowley. “I’ll go get my coat! I’ll only be a minute.”

Nearly half an hour later the couple left the bookshop on account of Aziraphale spending too much time admiring the different hues and asking Crowley for the names of colours found around the shop. And so, with the new knowledge of the colour tan and brown, Aziraphale entered the London streets with the want to know more.

His eyes immediately went to the skies, expecting to see that deep blue the humans talked about. “Is that blue?” he asked Crowley, looking up at the sky. “It looks just the same as always to me.”

“Oh nope. Those are grey skies,” Crowley explained.

Aziraphale frowned. “Didn’t you say the sky was blue?”

“Oh, it is. Just not in England.” He glanced over at his pouting angel. “Give me a second, I’ll see what I can do.”

“What are you going to d—” As Aziraphale turned to address the demon, he had suddenly unfolded his wings and shot into the sky. 

“Make sure no one sees me while I’m up here!” he shouted down to Aziraphale as he rose into the sky.

“Anthony Crowley… what am I gonna do with you?” Aziraphale sighed as he made it so no humans would notice the flying dark mass in the sky. He, however, didn’t keep Crowley from being seen by other creatures, meaning that a flock of migrating ducks were not spared from the sight of an angry demon yelling at a bunch of storm clouds to go away and let his angel see the sky or he would smite them into oblivion. The ducks were unfazed, they had seen this particular local demon do many strange things.

When Crowley landed back on Earth, Aziraphale greeted him cheerfully if not a bit disappointed. “Oh, there you are— and where are you off to now?” Aziraphale watched helplessly as Crowley ran back into the bookshop to grab an umbrella.

“The clouds were not happy,” he answered. “On a completely unrelated note, it’s going to rain just a few minutes. D’you still wanna walk to the park?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was falling for this fool. “We can take your car,” he sighed. “Why don’t we drive out to the countryside?”

Crowley grinned as he grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and led him to the Bentley. “I like the way you think, Angel.”

“No car crashes,” Aziraphale warned Crowley, “Or I’m never letting you get near a wheeled vehicle ever again.”

“No car crashes,” Crowley promised. “Oh, but you haven’t seen the colour of blood yet, have y—”

“ _ Crowley!” _

“Sorry, demonic habit.” Crowley grabbed a cassette labelled Bach and started to play it as the Bentley’s engine came to life. The cassette played Queen, and the Bentley shot off at a speed that was definitely above the speed limit.

Aziraphale grabbed a hold of his seat and looked behind them. “Crowley, I may be new to this whole colour thing, but I’m pretty sure that was a red light you just ran.”

“I’m fine. You just made me promise that I won’t crash,” Crowley said with a malevolent grin. He wasn’t even looking at the road.

“You’re on thin ice, demon.” Aziraphale watched as Crowley turned back to the road. Despite being a  _ terrible _ driver, he looked like he belonged at the wheel. Aziraphale could recall how excited Crowley was the first time he got the Bentley, and Aziraphale had been so eager to get a ride with him, not knowing that Crowley hadn’t even passed a driving test.

Eventually after enough speeding, enough cursing at the traffic on the M25, and enough oohing and awing at the greenery next to the highway, the two reached a nice grassy field far enough from London that it was untouched by the rain Crowley had unintentionally caused.

The two exited the car and found a place to sit in the shade of a large oak tree. With the snap of his fingers, Crowley made a red and white checked blanket appear in the grass. “It’s six thirty,” he informed Aziraphale as they sat down on the blanket. “I’m really hoping the clouds’ll clear up so you can see the sunset.”

“Yes…” Aziraphale gazed out at the city in the distance, which was loomed over with dark rain clouds. He felt like Crowley had intercepted any chance of that happening, but he didn’t bring it up. “God, it’s so lovely out here, and so… green.”

“Hmm,” Crowley murmured in agreement as he watched the awed angel with delight. He was laying down on the blanket with his ginger waves sprawled out on the ground. “I’m glad you like it, Angel.”

Aziraphale laid beside Crowley. Being here brought back memories of all the other times the couple would just sit together and enjoy the Earth. As Aziraphale gazed up at the clouded heavens, he could almost forget that Heaven and Hell even existed, he could believe that he was just some being on this Earth enjoying it just like the rest of the humans. Knowing how much Crowley had been through as a demon, he hoped he could enjoy that feeling of freedom as well.

Crowley rolled his head over to look out at the grassy field. Right by the blanket, he saw a dandelion. With a smile, he picked the flower and showed it to Aziraphale. “Hey, Angel. I read in a book that if you rub a dandelion under your chin and your chin turns yellow, it means you're in love.”

Aziraphale chuckled. He knew exactly what book Crowley was talking about. “Did you now? Why don’t you try it out?”

Aziraphale had expected Crowley to use the dandelion on himself, but the demon reached his slender hand out and rubbed the dandelion under Aziraphale’s chin. The angel giggled in surprise.

Crowley smiled teasingly. “Yellow! Angel, are you in  _ looooove?” _

Aziraphale turned away, his face heating up. “Maybe.”

“Ooh?”

“Actually…” Aziraphale sat up. “Crowley, I think you just figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Crowley was used to accidentally saying something smart, he did it more often than being clever on purpose.

“Why I can see colour all of a sudden. Crowley, I’ll be honest with you, I know I’m not…” Aziraphale hesitated. “I know I’m not the perfect angel.”

Crowley laughed. “I could tell you that. Erm, not that you’re not perfect. You just aren’t as angelic as Gabriel and the rest.”

“Exactly. But I’m able to do things that they cannot. I’m able to do  _ human _ things. I do things like eat or run a bookshop or get angry at people, the others can’t do that. But I didn’t start out with those abilities, I gained them over the thousand of years we’ve been on this Earth.

“I have a theory that why I’m able to do these things is because I’ve done something that none of those angels have: the seven deadly sins. Think about it, I’m able to enjoy food because, well, gluttony of course, but also because I was _ envious _ that all the humans got to sit down and have a meal with each other. Me running a bookshop can be attributed to pride, greed because I rarely actually sell my books but keep them to myself, and sloth because a cozy shop makes a nice place to relax after performing miracles. And  _ sometimes _ I can get a  _ bit  _ wrathful at humans.”

“Ha, sometimes?” Crowley recalled the many times Aziraphale would get into a fight with someone over something silly like a book or a lost antichrist. “But what your saying is, that you can now see colour because of…” Crowley paused to do the math. “Angel,  _ lust? _ Really? I’m surprised.”

“Well… not lust per se, but…” Aziraphale chewed on his lip as he looked down at Crowley and felt the dusty dandelion pollen on his chin. Was he finally ready to admit it? “I’m in love.”

“Yeah, with the Earth,” Crowley said. “You love this planet with all of your angelic heart.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. He hadn’t expected Crowley to be so oblivious. “With a  _ person _ , Crowley.”

Crowley struggled to sit up, startled. “A human?”

“Not a human,” Aziraphale sighed.

Now Crowley was starting to fume. “Is it Gabriel?! Angel, how could y— mmph.”

Aziraphale cut off the oblivious idiot by pressing his lips into his. After six thousand years… it felt so satisfying. As an angel, Aziraphale should’ve thought this was scandalous, an angel and a demon kissing on Earth. But Aziraphale couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to finally be with Crowley. And besides, Aziraphale quite liked rebellion.

When the two broke from the kiss, Crowley spoke. “Wait… is it  _ me _ ?”

“That’s what I meant to convey with that kiss, dear,” Aziraphale said, straightening his tie.

Crowley’s glasses had fallen off and his eyes were wide with shock. “You mean— you… why?” He started stuttering incoherently. “Why me? Angel, I’m a demon. A spawn of evil.”

“Crowley, you’ve been trying to seduce me for a while, why are you trying to convince me that I shouldn’t like you.”

Crowley swallowed. “We both know I don’t deserve you.” His voice suddenly turned bitter. “People have _ died _ because of me.”

“We all have done things we aren’t so proud of,” Aziraphale said. He grabbed the dandelion from Crowley and put it behind the demon’s ear. “I’ve swindled a few customers...”

“You what?”

“I gave away a flaming sword that was given to me by God and accidentally created War, and I fell in love with someone who was supposed to be my arch enemy.”

“How long?”

“How long have I liked you?” Aziraphale thought. “Well, looking back, I think it’s been quite a while. But I didn’t acknowledge any feelings until... well, today. You?”

Crowley rested his very red face in his palm. “Angel,” he said, his voice over pouring with sweetness, “I’ve been waiting to kiss you ever since our first conversation in Eden.”

“That is a very long time.”

“Well someone once told me that I was going too fast.”

Aziraphale smiled. “They sound to be quite a bastard.”

“You have no idea.”

Aziraphale laughed and pressed his head against Crowley’s chest. He looked up at the sky and was glad to see that the clouds had started to dissipate, revealing a lovely blue. A ray of sunshine escaped through the hole in the clouds and shone onto London. The effect was a clear and bright plethora of colours.

“A rainbow,” murmured Crowley.  _ Not very subtle of Her _ , he thought.

“Oh, wow,” sighed Aziraphale. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” agreed Crowley as he put an arm around his dear angel and looked out at the bright and colourful Earth. “Yes, it is.”


End file.
